


Jingle Balls

by Davechicken, ElDiablito_SF



Series: Castiel and Crowley's First Christmas [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cas has a present to give Crowley in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jingle Balls

Castiel probably should have planned things out a little better, but at the time, the study seemed like a perfectly reasonable place to stash his gift for his husband. There was a toasty fireplace, an obscenely plush Persian rug, and one of the bookshelves actually turned into a Murphy bed (Crowley’s idea). 

“I’m ashamed,” he pulled Crowley along up the stairs. “Your gift is so much more thoughtful than mine, but… I know your dislike for all things Noel, so I figured you’d be all pissy and try to withhold sex if I gave you some kind of an overly sincere gift.” He turned briefly, bathing his demon in a look of artful adoration. “I really don’t deserve you, you know.” And before Crowley could properly respond, the angel yanked him through the study doors. He enjoyed having to use his legs to wander around their palatial abode - it made it feel more like home.

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” Crowley insisted, not resisting being yanked around. “I just thought you should have something. And besides - it will probably throw up in your shoes anyway - so it’s not really all that thoughtful of me…”

“No, Magi is not going to throw up in my shoes. She’ll probably shed all over your suits though,” Cas’ eyes twinkled as he pulled Crowley against him, “So thank you in advance for not murdering her.” He gave Crowley a small, almost chaste kiss before moving off towards the armchair where he had left the extravagantly wrapped gift.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Crowley sighed. It was likely going to be a perpetual problem. Well. It stopped life getting dull.

The demon squinted after Cas, wondering what on earth he’d got him. “So you did get me something… I was starting to wonder if you were just going to offer me your body.” A grin. “I like your body.”

“But you get that all the time, babe,” Cas smirked, handing Crowley the mystery box. “Go on. There are layers… er… of gifts and meanings and… stop staring at me like that and open it.”

“Doesn’t mean I love it any less,” Crowley insisted, sitting on the armchair and putting the box in his lap. And then shaking it just a little to see if that gave him an indication of the contents. It did not. Also because he wanted to make Cas impatient with him so he would do that pouty face he did. Yep. “I’m still touched,” he insisted, as he started to untangle the bow with delicate fingertips, prising it open. And when it was gone, his fingers slid under the seams of the paper, finding where the tape held it down and trying to pull it open without tearing (it was a skill). 

Once the paper was summarily removed he lifted the lid to the box to find two more boxes inside. The top one felt suspiciously warm to the touch. Crowley frowned in confusion and opened it first (because of the heat) and was delighted to find a plate full of warm little beignets. He lifted the plate up to sniff - sugar and dough and ovens and bundling up against the cold outside their little palace - and he beamed at Cas. He picked one up in his fingertips and pushed it to Cas’ lips, brushing sugar all over them in the process.

“Mmmm,” Cas melted against the sugary pastry and took a bite. “Giving me the first taste? You truly do spoil me rotten.” He had made an excellent choice - the beignets were just the perfect combination of taste and textures against his tongue. “There’s caramel sauce in there, if you want to dip your… um… yeah, the beignets, into it.”

“It’s only so I can do this,” Crowley insisted leaning in to lick the mess from around his angel’s lips. And then he picked up another one and dunked it in, lifting it and letting the excess dribble obscenely back into the little bowl. He swirled it around and then ate it slowly, his tongue flickering out to catch the mess he was making… oh but then there was some on his fingers which clearly Cas would have to remove…

“Don’t forget the second part of the gift,” Cas whispered, picking Crowley’s hand up and bringing it to his lips, as if reading his husband’s mind. His long tongue trailed over the underside and in between Crowley’s digits, finally sucking them into his mouth and closing his eyes in a blatant demonstration of pleasure. He hummed softly around the demon’s fingers before withdrawing his tongue and lips from around them.

The first part of the gift clearly required more attention, if Cas was going to do that with his tongue and make him make that little disgruntled groan that only his angel was capable of pulling from him and maybe if he… right. More presents. Crowley swallowed and tried to drag his focus back. “What if the balls get cold?” he asked, with a tiny little pout.

“They won’t. How do you think I kept them warm for you this whole time?” Cas blushed. This was a genius gift, he decided. Now everything out of his mouth was innuendo too - so they were even!

“Hmm. Alright. But if my balls go cold I am holding you personally responsible and in charge of re-warming them,” Crowley insisted. He put the plate of beignets down to one side reluctantly and opened up the second little box. Inside - wrapped in red crepe paper - was a decidedly garish black jockstrap with a red rudolph nose placed in a strategic location, terrifying googly eyes and two giant red devil horns. Crowley choked on a little laugh. “Seriously? Cas… I love you. I honestly do…” But this was insane. As were the fluffy red handcuffs which he scooped onto one finger and swirled back and forth. “Are there demon traps underneath all this fluff, or is it a case of goodwill… or a request?”

“Wait till you see what I’m wearing underneath this,” Cas pointed to his trenchcoat casually. He sometimes liked to still wear it indoors, despite Crowley’s protestations that it was ass-obscuring.

Crowley shook his head and with a fingersnap the hideous underthings were… under his things. And he reached up a hand to grab the angel by the tie and pull him down into his lap. “That sounds like an invitation to unwrap my _third_ present, unless you are harbouring yet more secrets which stand between me and my favourite thing?”

Cas straddled Crowley’s lap comfortably and locked his fingers at the nape of his beloved’s neck. He grinned down a bit guiltily.

“I harbor no more secrets. And it doesn’t need to be pointed out that you were correct in your original supposition of what my gift to you would be. The beignets are a bonus.” He reached behind himself, willing one of the sugary balls to migrate into the palm of his hand before presenting it to Crowley. “Merry Christmas, my love. I’m certain the cat is destroying the furniture downstairs as we speak, and I couldn’t possibly be more in love with you.”

“You can fix what she ruins,” Crowley promised, before eating the little treat with far more teeth and tongue over fingertips than was actually required. He had one hand tugging the stupid damn coat free to slide his hand underneath, the other was working on unfastening the knot in his tie and sliding that to the ground. Where it belonged. (Well it actually belonged burned, salted and buried somewhere but Cas would just find another one if he ever did exorcise it.)

“I thought these were a good metaphor for our love,” Cas added, watching the pastry as it was being masticated out of his fingertips. “Don’t you think? So… well-rounded and cloyingly sweet. And giving certain people diabetes if they’re around us for too long.” He chuckled, thinking about the Winchesters. He should really pay them a visit. Well, sex first.

Crowley gave a noisy little suck to one finger and then left it glistening with saliva, his eyes dark and loving as he peered up at his ridiculous little angel. “Also warm, round balls that are great in my mouth?” He could be crass if he wanted to. He could also pull Cas’ head back by the hair with one hand, as the other started to unbutton his shirt and bare his throat for sloppy, noisy kisses. Kisses and the occasional nibble, as he worked down to his navel and then roughly palmed over the front of his pants, trying to work out what the hell the angel had picked for himself. As long as it wasn’t a bloody reindeer. He didn’t want to think about the Moose right now.

“Well you have _wrapped_ my last present, at least,” Crowley said, eyes narrowing at the strange things he could feel in the way of his husband’s package. What was… and did that make a noise? He frowned. Well. No Moose, at least. He pushed the horrible, stupid coat from his angel’s shoulders, letting it fall somewhere off to one side (one of these days he would find a way to stop it coming back) and then the shirt. Which distracted him briefly, because Castiel had a very nice chest and he liked to ghost his lips under his collarbones and down to his nipples and flicker out his tongue over them. And then use his teeth until Cas did that shuddery thing in his lap. And then his tongue and then… well Crowley could keep this up all day, really. (Sometimes he did.) His hand was still free to tug open that belt, and drag it slowly from his pants.

“So… who is wearing the handcuffs, my sweet? Am I to untie you of one set of layers, and bind you in another?”

“They’re your gift,” Cas dug his fingernails into the grooves of Crowley’s shoulder where the arm met the collarbones. “I thought it was more appropriate to let you decide. But I see you’re still very British, deep down, even for a demon.”

His amber eyes slitted in pleasure. He liked when his angel bit back. Oh he liked it a lot. “Just because I am a demon does not mean I should not also be a gentleman to my husband,” Crowley retorted. “Would you rather I was a mindless savage? Because I can do that.” Not really. Well sort of. Some times. Mostly not. He picked up the handcuffs from beside him, then held one cuff open and waiting.

Cas smiled and bit his lower lip in anticipation, one wrist sliding willingly in between the open maws of the fluffy red cuff.

“I thought they were pretty,” Cas got that distracted look in his eyes while they traveled to the cuffs. “They sort of remind me of what you look like when you’re naked. I mean, actually naked.” He bit harder on his lip. “I should just stop saying things,” he added.

Crowley shook his head and snicked the cuff closed - just tight enough to hold without chafing unduly (because he was considerate like that) - and then he held the other one out and snapped that in place, too. “You could put your mouth to better tasks,” he agreed. “You kinky little feathered deviant.” Cuffs on, he guided Cas’ hands up and over his head, leaving everything else free. 

Like those pants. Which were still proudly straining. “Besides. Half naked is better. Fully naked means I can’t do this…” Which was grip him tightly through the fabric and - _that was a goddamn jingle_. “...Cas…”

He didn’t want the angel getting up and off his lap, so he cheated for the last part and fingersnapped the rest of his clothes away, shaking his head at the very ridiculous Santa hat he’d covered his manhood with. Complete with bloody little tinkling… “...are you really wearing Jingle Balls?”

"It would appear so," Cas replied. It was getting increasingly difficult not to laugh, especially in the face of, well, Crowley's face. "I'm sure Daddy gravely disapproves and feels the need to dole out righteous punishment?" The angel's eyes sparked with anticipation. 

"Daddy thinks that his angel has finally gone off his rocker," Crowley agreed. "And that he deserves a thorough spanking for his sins."

Even if he could swat at it and... yes it did make a stupid little tinkle. Sodom and Gomorrah but his husband was really going to be the death of him. "Come on... you're not fit to sit on my knee until you've been swatted for your utter lack of _taste_."

"I've had very questionable human role models," Cas protested with a ridiculous lack of conviction or fortitude. 

He slid off his demon's lap, wiggling his ass (and melodious crotch) over to the fireplace. The warmth of the flame licked at his exposed skin. 

"Where do you want me, babe?" Cas jiggled suggestively.

That noise was just… Crowley was just glad he loved the little bastard, because it was the most undignified and tasteless thing he’d ever witnessed. And he’d seen the 80s. All of them. “On the rug,” he said, “on all fours. Ass up and ready.”

He got to his feet (tugging at his pants to make sure the creases fell right around the front) and stalked over. His angel still had those handcuffs on and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he should have invested in some god-awful fake antlers, too. (No. There was such a thing as too much.) Carefully he lowered himself to his knees next to his husband, stroking a hand down from the nape of his neck over his spine to his ass. Which he then rubbed each cheek slowly, making sure he was nice and ready and wanting. “I think one for each of the twelve days of Christmas, don’t you?”

"Mmmmm, yes Daddy." Cas let his head drop down to his chest, back arching into Crowley's touch. He was a very, very clever (but selfish) angel. If he didn't know Crowley was having a tantamount quantity of fun, he might have felt a pang or two of guilt. 

Cheeky little brat. Of course he was doing it on purpose. And the g-string left little to the imagination from the rear, although it did cover up things Crowley enjoyed looking at… and touching… he swatted at one cheek. It made the stupid thing jingle. “That is also for the tasteless lights you keep putting up…” He rubbed over the very slightly pink cheek. A second swat, to the other side. “And that’s for all the ridiculous music.”

" _Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer_ is a classic," Cas pretended to protest, shutting his eyes to better enjoy the pleasure of the pain radiating out of Crowley's handprint on his skin. 

“You’re a little shit,” Crowley accused, whacking him another two times for good measure, rubbing over his ass to make sure he _really_ felt it. “I’m going to have to find some suitably satanic rituals to cleanse this house of all your horrible things. Maybe I’ll hang some goats up to bleed out into the rugs…” Swat, swat, swat, swat. Cas’ ass was oh-so nice and watching it tense and the very faintest of wobbles pass through it under his hand… oh yes. He was going to have to kiss it better after. If the damnable noises stopped. Perhaps he should have removed the offending item of clothing _first_.

"You mean like a Yule Goat?" Cas inquired, a tremor of desire and anticipation running through his limbs. He held his Grace in check, to prevent it from trying to heal the delicious sting of his ass. He arched his back in his own feline way and let out tiny gasps of barely fettered pleasure. 

“I mean like dark, evil, satanic, hellish, infernal goats,” Crowley insisted. “Nothing to do with Yule, or Noels, or Saturnalia or anything of the sort. Maybe a Bacchic orgy or just some naked writhing witches…” His finger slid under the tight little string and teased at his hole and… fuck. What was he up to? He tried to remember the count. Eight. Probably eight. Another two made ten and he was only two short. God but he wanted to bite that ass so badly.

Cas unleashed a barely suppressed moan that had been threatening to escape for the last handful of slaps. Hearing Crowley talk of blood sacrifice and witches should not have been a turn on, but then again, when had his husband's words ever fail to arouse him? Not for a very long while, anyways. 

"Please, Daddy," the angel begged, shamelessly. 

“And then when they’re all done drinking and fucking themselves silly on the lawn, when all the revels are done, I should lay you over an altar and bugger you senseless as an offering to me,” Crowley suggested, with the last two whacks and then he reached around to yank on the ridiculous bell-adorned cock swaying between his legs. “Would you like that? Being a filthy little whore for my evil, twisted party? Screaming out my name in invocation?” His hand twisted as he stroked him through the (tacky, nasty, nylon) fabric.

"Oh fuck yes!" Cas moaned, so turned on that he would have consented to just about anything. "You know I'll do anything you want if you just ask me nicely." And by 'nicely' he currently meant 'anything but'.

Crowley carried on tugging the stupidly-jangling junk. He licked at the thumb of his other hand, before pushing the string to one side so he could tease over his husband’s greedy little hole with the pad, his fingers curling around his balls and squeezing firmly. “I think you need to be a bit more clear on that front,” he suggested, as he pushed his thumb inside (making sure it was just tight enough to be a little uncomfortable without actually being painful). “And I don’t think I should have to ask nicely. I think I should just _look_ at you, and you drop to your hands and knees and shove your pretty little ass in the air and beg me to fuck it… don’t you?”

"Like this? Like now?" Cas shivered with pleasure at the intrusion. "Come on, baby, you know I want you to fuck me." His entire ass still felt delightfully warm from the administered spanking, his cock strained against the material between its needs and Crowley's hand. He was beginning to rather regret the bells himself, but only to the extent that he wanted his junk to run free (into his husband's palm).

Crowley slid his thumb all the way in on nothing more than crazy demon sex magic (oh he loved crazy demon sex magic), pressing down inside him, finding the little spot that always made his angel’s mouth spew delightful filth. “Oh, I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you into next year. And then I want to fuck you back to now, so I can do it again.”

Yes. He was aware it made no sense. No, he didn’t care. He swirled his thumb around inside for good measure, then he bent down and took the horrible little string between his teeth and eased it down over his cheeks… stroking him off through the red plush fabric as he also tugged the stupid little hat _off_ him. “I hope you’re not overly attached to this,” he asked. Well. Not quite asked.

Cas keened, or rather mewled, or rather melted into an incoherent puddle of pre-coital nonsense. He was finally gloriously nude and about to get the rest of his Christmas gift. But no, this wasn't for him, he chided himself. Oh, who was he kidding! 

"Please," he panted. "I want you so much, darling, I need you so badly."

Cas decided he had played his hand well enough till now. It was time to surrender. Crowley would understand. He always knew exactly what Cas wanted, often before Cas did (the proof was in the kitten downstairs).

The demon decided he could indulge his darker little thoughts… and he bent down and bit his beloved right on the ass. Hard. Teeth clenching in and sucking with an obscenely wet noise. Then he fingersnapped his own clothing off - barr the jock strap - and knelt between his legs… only to rub the ridiculous cheap tacky demon-nose against his angel’s ass. “I know you do, my nasty little tree-topper… I know you do… even though you bought me the most hideous clothing known to man. Was that a not-too-subtle hint for me to not wear it very long?”

Because it worked. He snapped again and it went to join the pile of unwanted garments. Crowley put a hand on the dip of his angel’s back, the other holding his magically-slicked cock so he could whack it over the angel’s crack a few times before he nudged just the tip into him. He had to bite his lip to prevent any groans escaping. Fuck. Fuck but he was going to last about three seconds more. “Are you--?”

" _Oh_ yes, oh _fuck_ yes," the rest sort of dissipated as Cas felt the glorious, thick, long slide of Crowley's cock inside him. His nails clawed at the rich Persian rug. Rug burn didn't concern him anymore - they hadn’'t managed to destroy Paradiso either, despite several laudable attempts. "Fuck... harder," he begged, "unless you want me to sing _Little Drummer Boy_ for you."

“If you do then I’m going to put a cock ring on you with Enochian script on that will make you unsatiable for a week,” Crowley growled out in threat. And then grabbed hold of his hips and… oh yes. Let himself slam all the way in. And then all the way out. He angled Cas’ hips the way he wanted them (he was a very fussy demon, and he knew what he liked), then did it again. “The only thing I want coming from your lips is a list of all the ways you love me, you precocious little brat.” But Cas didn’t need to worry, because once he got him angled just right then - oh yes - then Crowley was scrabbling for purchase on the rug to try and slam harder, fingernails digging into the skin around his hips.

"Uh... yes." _There_. Right there. His love was so good at this, so so good, sometimes he wished he was still mortal so that he could feel this for days to follow every time he moved. He wished he could still carry the imprints of his beloved's fingers on his hips like a priceless secret he wouldn't give away for all the power in the universe. "I do. I love you... _Fuck_. More. Give it to me!"

Crowley yanked back on his husband’s hips even as he shoved in, slapping his balls against his ass with that ridiculous but somehow sublime sound that made him happy inside in more than just his balls and his cock. He bit down on his lower lip as he fought to keep the words at bay, trying desperately to sound aloof and detached and… “Fucking… yesyes _christ_ yes you nasty little angel I’m going to ram you onto my tree so hard you’ll see fairy-lights for the rest of your ridiculously long _life_... spread your wings, angel… come to Daddy…”

Yes, that was what he wanted. To feel Crowley's hands on some part of him that was never borrowed. A wave of a feeling akin to relief washed over Castiel as he pulled his wings into the physical plane and spread them out before Crowley. Having them out like that brought his Grace closer to the surface again, and - with it - the now familiar resonation that he could feel from deep inside his husband's body, from the place where he had hidden that part of himself.

"Touch them, please," Cas begged, wings held out and spread over his head, the same way he had splayed out the rest of his body earlier.

Crowley could feel how his lover felt, because somewhere inside it echoed in him, too. That little part of Heaven he took down with him to Hell, that kept him honest, despite everything. He loved to see his angel so magnificent, because though his vessel was beautiful and on some level _him_ , when he spread his wings Crowley could almost see the Heaven in him. His hands moved from hips up to the small of Cas’ back, up to where the wings burst proudly forth and then he spread his fingers out, dragging down through the long feathers as he would down his spine,, marvelling at the way they shuddered around him, at the way his angel jumped under his touch.

“Beautiful,” he said, in that raptured tone he reserved for Cas and Cas alone. “So beautiful.” Fingers tangling in, tugging back as he slammed again. again. No. He needed more purchase, and he didn’t want to truly hurt him by tugging at feathers. His hands went underneath the angel’s wingspan and his fingers curled up and over the strong, broad arch that came from his shoulder blades. All the better to ram his lover back as he pushed in. “Cas… I… you feel too good, I’m going… I can’t not…” 

"Yes, me too... please..." It was electric, glorious, divine perfection and Cas felt the coursing of his palpitating Grace through the clenching of his husband's fingers. They were both about to go supernova on the Persian rug. There was no where else to go, impaled as he was, each particle of his being aflame with love and desire. "Do it."

Words failed him - they just didn’t come to his mouth, no matter how hard he tried to find them - and Crowley dragged Cas back by his expansive wingspan one more time. The heat rose up like a wave behind his belly, like a punch to the gut that ruptured him, pouring out the load from his aching balls and writing his claim inside again... in case Cas’ body had forgotten in the short space of time that it belonged to Crowley and only to Crowley. The demon made an undignified little whimpering noise, collapsing on his husband’s back, wrapped tight around those precious wings of his where he rubbed his face like the kitten they now - apparently - owned.

 _Fuck_ , he thought, rather loudly.

He had been handcuffed still so it wasn't like he could have given himself a hand had he needed it - which he didn't - fireworks going off behind his fluttering eyelids as Cas reached his own pinnacle, painting the rug with white streaks. His knees finally gave out, causing him to slump into the sticky mess, pulling Crowley along with him, his wings beating wildly against the walls of the study with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Crowley was all too happy to just slump post-coitally, spooning up against his angel and kissing at the back of his neck. He was in no mood to get straight up - wasn’t sure his legs would even function - so he just kept up the touches, kneading firmly where wings met vessel, idly dry-humping his ass a few times for good measure. “I think we’re going to need birthdays,” he decided. “We already have anniversaries. But we should have as many reasons for ridiculous presents as we can think of. Just don’t expect a kitten every time…” he nipped at an earlobe, worrying it with his tongue. 

He was many things, but Crowley was not in the market for becoming a crazy-old-cat-demon. Two kittens were enough for him.

"Mmmm," Cas muttered into the rug. His feathers preened and bristled under Crowley's fingers as they gently carded through them. "We could get a puppy? This is a really big house." He moved one of his wings up to caress his husband's face with it.

Eyes closed, he leaned into the feathers even if they tickled and then he nearly sneezed and then he pushed into them again. (Crowley was nothing if not a glutton for punishment.) “I have Hellhounds,” he pointed out. “I’m sure the kitten would have them brought into line. I could get us a Hellpuppy…?” Fingers around his collar and he pressed down with the heels of his hands, pushing any crick in his husband’s neck out. He was a caring demon, all things considered.

 

Cas was practically purring himself. The warmth from the fire, the contentment he felt at the kneading of Crowley's fingers reminded him of the human predilection for napping. 

"Are Hellpuppies as cute as normal puppies?" he wondered out loud, trying to free his wrists that were still trapped underneath both their bodies. "Should I take these off or do you have other plans for these?" He weakly waved the handcuffs above his head and let his limbs drop lazily again. They should shift and then he can use his wings as a blanket - Crowley always seemed secretly fond of that.

“I can always put them back on,” Crowley agreed, snapping him free of the cuffs for the moment and sending them over the way of the clothes. Almost reluctantly he pulled out and rolled to his side - hand still reaching out to paw at him. He liked being close and relaxed, when the heat of the moment died down. He did, however, get rid of the damp patch because he was a fastidious demon. 

“Hellpuppies are… well. I think they’re cute. Fiercely loyal, when they’re trained. Depends if you find them disgusting or not. Have you never seen any of my whelps?”

Cas rolled over and pulled close to Crowley again, his head resting in the crook of his husband's arm. He stretched and fluffed out his wings before draping them over and around both of their bodies like an impenetrable blanket of raven quills.

"I've had some close run-ins, but never the actual pleasure, no," he mused. There was that one time when Meg took one for the team, and the other time when Lucifer had him trapped in a ring of burning holy oil (annoying), and wait... "Yeah, yeah I have. I must have repressed that memory. The siege on Hell for Dean's soul seems so long ago, almost as if it happened to someone else." It did happen to someone else. It was so many lifetimes ago. He wrapped his arms and wings even tighter around Crowley. "I'd lay siege to Hell all over again for you," he whispered, instinctively and amorously seeking out the demon's lips underneath the canopy of his own feathers.

His angel knew how to say the sweetest, most heartbreaking things, the emotionally manipulative little shit of a love of his life… Crowley kissed him back, imagining the little dark den they’d made was a Hell all of their own, complete with crackling fire and nice, stretched muscles. They traded little secrets with their tongues for while - his hands forgetting where one ended and the other began - and then he pulled back with a sigh. “I’ll take you down there, later, and you can look at the runts and see if you want to adopt one. If not… fine. I’ll get you a real puppy. But you’re talking it for walks, not me. Deal?”

"Your majesty is pre-eminently fair, like King Solomon himself," Cas whispered gently against his beloved's lips. He wanted a big black one, with bright amber eyes, and a red collar, so that it could look like Daddy.

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
